You just had to go and do it again, didn't you?
by Linnzi
Summary: Written for the Sheppard HC community fever fic challenge. Sheppard gets Rodney and himself into trouble again...Complete.
1. Chapter 1

You just had to go and do it again, didn't you?

This was written for the Sheppard H/C community fever fic challenge. It may be an idea to read "A little pain on the side", which is listed here on my profile page. Though this may be read as a stand alone story, it has a few references to the events of that fic. Thanks to Kodiak for the beta.

Chapter 1.

"I'm c-c-cold." John 's teeth chattered as he moaned.

"Yes, yes. You've told me that at least a hundred times already in the last few hours. I get it, Colonel. You're cold." McKay's irritated voice echoed around the empty, dark and slightly chilly lab.

"Why am I naked?" John asked, as he opened his eyes and spied his bare torso and limbs.

McKay snorted. "You're not naked. I thought I'd explained this half-an-hour ago?"

"You did?" John's shivering body shook on the cool, tiled floor.

"Yes, I did," McKay huffed irritably. "You're not naked as you have your underwear on - see?" The physicist pointed to the striped blue and white boxers covering the colonel's modesty.

"So why am I nearly naked?" Sheppard asked again. "Why is it so cold in here, and if it's so cold, why haven't I got my clothes on?"

McKay groaned. "Oh for goodness sake, now you're babbling. I took your clothes off because you're so hot," Rodney explained impatiently.

Sheppard snickered drunkenly.

"No offence, Rodney, but you're really not my type."

McKay groaned again. "Ha, ha. I took your clothes off because Carson told me to."

"He's not my type either. I thought he had a thing for Cadman. He's a dark horse, isn't he?" Sheppard mused.

"This is getting ridiculous. Is this your delirium talking, or is it just your pathetically juvenile sense of humour emerging again? No don't tell me, I think I already know the answer to that." McKay was fast losing what little tolerance he had.

"Carson told me to take your clothes off because you have a very high fever."

"I do?" Sheppard closed his eyes and moaned. "My head hurts. Why does my head hurt?"

McKay reached down to pick up his water flask, and poured some of the contents onto a handkerchief.

"Here, let's put this on your forehead. You have a nasty bruise on it from when you fainted earlier." Mckay emphasised the word fainted.

Sheppard snorted. "Didn't faint. I passed out. Why did I pass out?"

"Because you have a fever and are sick, you idiot."

McKay tapped his headset.

"Carson? I'm really not cut out to nurse flyboys, and this one is particularly irritating. How much longer is Zelenka going to be?" he asked impatiently.

Static burst through Rodney's headset, before Beckett's voice filtered through.

"It's taking longer than he anticipated, I'm afraid. We're two corridors down from you now, and working our way towards you. How's the colonel?"

McKay exhaled in frustration.

"Being a bigger pain than usual. He seems to think you and I have a crush on him and want to see him naked."

Beckett's laughter flooded McKay's headset.

"Good grief. Poor lad must be delirious," he chuckled.

"Well of course he's delirious. I took his temperature ten minutes ago and it's still forty degrees," Rodney whined.

Beckett tutted. "Have you sponged him down with water yet?"

"I put my favourite dampened hanky on his fevered brow," McKay replied in a feminine voice.

Carson huffed. "That's no bloody good. You have to sponge his chest, arms, legs. Do you get the idea?" he asked in an annoyed voice.

"Do I have to? I'm really not comfortable sponging his half-naked body. I'm just not a touchy-feely sort of guy," McKay whined again.

McKay heard Carson cursing under his breath. "Nobody's wanting you to touch Colonel Sheppard. However, if his fever continues to climb, he's likely to have a seizure, and I shouldn't need to explain to a genius such as yourself the ramifications of that."

"Point taken. Just tell Zelenka to hurry up, we've been down here for six hours now. Tell the Czech bastard to pull his finger out. I mean, I know he's a little slow, but this is bordering on incompetent. McKay over, out and thoroughly pissed off," he huffed into his mic.

As McKay removed the cloth from Sheppard's forehead and poured more water on it, he sighed. How on Earth had he got himself in this situation? The answer was simple: John Sheppard.

It had been Sheppard's idea to go to Lab four at six 'o'clock in the morning to test a new Ancient Artefact they'd discovered on T6B-191 several days previously. The explanation for the colonel's early rise? He couldn't sleep; Sheppard couldn't sleep, so he'd woken up the physicist and whined until he'd agreed to go play with him. It soon became obvious to McKay that the colonel wasn't himself. Rodney had then realised, when he'd thought about it, that Sheppard had been a little off the day before. Nothing he could put his finger on, but – quiet and sullen. Not the irritating Sheppard that McKay had come to know and moderately appreciate.

As he began to sponge the colonel's torso, said man moaned and batted at McKay's hand.

"G' 'way. I's cold," John complained.

McKay ignored his delirious friend and continued his task.

"Let's not go through this again." Looking down at the prone man, he noticed John was drifting off to sleep. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, you're not allowed to nap, remember- bump on the head?"

Sheppard prised open tired, unfocused eyes.

"I bumped my head?" He reached up with his right hand and probed the large egg on his forehead. "Did I get in a fight again, Mitch?"

"This is starting to really piss me off." McKay pulled Sheppard's hand away from his head and placed it back by the colonel's side. "You FAINTED!" he yelled, no longer able to contain his anger.

Sheppard recoiled. "No need to shout. Don't like it when you shout. Makes my head hurt."

McKay swallowed as he took in his friend's words.

"Oh God. Why me?" he asked in desperation. "It's okay, Sheppard. I'm not angry with you, just… incredibly frustrated."

"McKay? What's going on?" Sheppard asked again. "Er, I don't feel so good." McKay noticed the colonel's flushed face blanch.

"You don't feel so good as in you're cold and your head hurts, or you don't feel so good as in you're going to throw up all over me?" McKay's nose wrinkled in disgust.

Sheppard groaned and swallowed. "Sick…" he ground out as he rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on his elbows, and started to gag. He retched violently, as his breakfast put in an appearance. After the dry heaves had stopped, he groaned and flopped back down.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" McKay hoisted the limp colonel onto his lap, being careful to avoid the pool of vomit on the floor. As the shivering man started to slip from his grasp, Rodney put a hand on the floor to steady himself as his other hand grabbed the colonel forcefully. Once he'd found his equilibrium, he raised his palm from the floor, just to realise he'd plopped it down in the sticky mess. "Eeew! That's really disgusting!" he whined as he shook his hand and gulped. "Well, at least you didn't have raisin oatmeal for breakfast this time. Someone up above is obviously only half-pissing on me today!" He wiped his dripping hand on the leg of Sheppard's discarded pants, which were neatly folded nearby.

John smiled weakly.

"Sorry. Good job I only managed half a slice of toast this morning - wasn't hungry. I know you've never forgiven me for the oatmeal incident," he mumbled as he swallowed to ease his burning throat.

"Well, at least I know this isn't your appendix, as that's no longer in your abdomen. Could be more of the Alien STD's though. Did Carson ever check you for any?" McKay asked seriously, though the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his teasing.

Sheppard moaned softly.

"Haven't done anything to get anything. Besides, I'm always prepared. At least I was with Teer," he mumbled.

McKay snorted in disgust.

"You're telling me you carry condoms with you on missions?" The physicist's voice suddenly became high pitched.

John grinned.

"Like I said, I like to be prepared."

"And of course, you never can tell when a condom may be needed on a mission in the Pegasus Galaxy. I was wrong, you're not Kirk, he'd have never carried condoms," Rodney mused. "Arrgh! It's starting to smell in here. What is it with you and vomiting?"

John frowned.

"I said I was sorry, and it's not as if I did it on purpose or anything," he pouted, as he unsuccessfully tried to manouevre himself off of McKay's lap.

"Rodney?" Beckett's voice crackled through the radio. "How's the colonel?"

McKay looked down at the burning, fevered man whose head was against his chest. The heat from Sheppard penetrated through Rodney's own shirt, making him sweat uncomfortably.

"Oh, he's wonderful. At the moment he's half naked and shivering, burning up all over me, saying the most ridiculous things. Ah, and let's not forget that he just threw up - everywhere. It's okay though, it was only toast this time, not the delightful raisin oatmeal I was subjected to the last time he thought it'd be fun to anoint me with his stomach contents!"

Beckett tutted over the airways. "He vomited? When exactly were you going to inform me about this?"

McKay snorted. "Oh, for goodness sake, he just threw up about five minutes ago. It's nothing to get your sporran in a twist over," he replied in a condescending tone, as he groped for the ear thermometer he always carried with him in his rucksack. Sticking the medical instrument in Sheppard's ear he winced as he looked at the reading. 40.3 Degrees. Crap.

"Do I need to remind you that Colonel Sheppard is not only sick, but also has a head injury?" Carson asked in an irate voice.

McKay huffed. "No, I think we all know he's not quite firing on all cylinders at the moment, hence our conversation about condoms."

Beckett's exhalation could be heard through the radio. "I really don't want to know, Rodney. What's the colonel's temperature now?"

"40.3. I've been sponging him down lovingly, before you ask, but he's been saying some strange things." McKay snorted, and smiled wickedly. "I know what you're going to say, how's that different from normal?"

"Rodney, could you stop being so flippant for a minute? Temperature aside, I'm concerned he's vomited. He could have a concussion. Have you checked his pupils again?" Beckett asked forcefully.

McKay bit his lower lip. He hadn't. Why didn't he think of that. Extricating himself from Sheppard, and laying the sick man on the floor again, he fumbled with his rucksack, and rummaged through its contents, until he found his penlight. Quickly carrying out the neurological exam, he tutted, as Sheppard moved away from the light and moaned.

"M'Kay. Sick…" he groaned as he gagged and started to retch.

Rodney sprung to life, and rolled Sheppard for the second time that day.

"Carson? He seems to be showing signs of photosensitivity. His pupils were also sluggish," he informed the doctor anxiously.

"Rodney? Listen to me carefully. I want you to wait until the colonel has finished vomiting. Then, ask him to put his chin on his chest."

Once John had calmed down, and was lying limply on the floor, McKay forwarded Carson's instructions. As soon as John attempted to do as he was asked, he cried out, unable to perform the simple task.

"Oh God, it's meningitis, isn't it?" Rodney's panicked voice echoed around the lab.

Carson answered immediately.

"It's a possibility, I'm afraid."

Rodney stood and started to pace.

"He's got all the symptoms, hasn't he?"

McKay mentally went through the list: fever, headache, vomiting, confusion, photosensitivity, stiffness and pain in the neck. Crap.

"Aye, he does. However, he could have the 'flu and a head injury and have pulled his neck muscles when he fell," Carson explained, trying to calm the neurotic physicist down. "Can you check for any rashes? That could give us more of a clue what's going on."

Rodney scampered around the floor, quickly checking the colonel's body.

"I can't see anything, though I obviously haven't ventured underneath his underwear." He sat back on his heels and grimaced. "Tell me you don't want me to look underneath his boxers – please?"

Beckett chuckled. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Rodney. You gave the colonel Tylenol about three hours ago, and it's had no impact…" The radio went silent as Carson mulled over recent events. "Okay, try and get him to take two more. Is he still conscious?"

McKay looked down to see a glassy-eyed John looking at him dopily through half-closed lids.

"I'm 'wake," Johh slurred. "Head hurts, Doc. Never… thought I'd say this, but really want…to be in infirm'ry now…"

Carson exhaled over the mic. "I know, son. Radek's trying to get through the locked doors to get to you. Kavanagh's working on restoring power. We shouldn't be too much longer, then I'll sort you out, all right?"

"Yeah. Prefer your nurses. M'Kay's not good at…"

Sheppard stopped talking as his body stiffened, and his back arched off the floor.

McKay fell back onto his backside in shock. Quickly scrambling to his knees, he leaned over Sheppard and tried to hold him still.

"Carson? He's seizing. Shit. I don't think he's breathing!" he screamed into the headset.

Carson's voice was calm and commanding as it responded to McKay's outburst.

"Rodney? Calm down. It's not unusual for a patient to temporarily stop breathing as muscles seize. Wait for him to stop convulsing, and if he's not breathing when the seizure has ended, start CPR."

As unexpectedly as the seizure had occurred, it died away.

Sheppard's body relaxed, and he took in a shuddering breath.

Rodney shakily checked John's pulse and laid his hand on Sheppard chest to make sure he was breathing regularly.

"He's breathing. His pulse's racing though."

"That's normal in the circumstances, Rodney. I want you to put him in the recovery position for the moment in case he vomits again. I'm going to speak to Radek and see where we're at," Carson stated.

A soft moan from the floor drew Rodney's attention towards it.

"Colonel? Just lie still. You've gotten too hot again, and have had a nasty turn." Tutting to himself, Rodney shook his head. "God, I sound like Carson," he muttered.

Tapping his radio again, McKay shook his head as he studied the rapidly breathing man on the floor.

"Radek?"

"Rodney. I am very busy. I do not have time to talk to you. You want me to rescue you and Colonel, yes? Shut up please," Radek replied matter-of-factly.

McKay huffed in annoyance. "I just wanted to make sure you realised how urgent this is. I know you Central European's don't work as many long hours as us Canadian's do, but if you were stuck nursing a vomiting, fever-ridden, not to mention delirious pilot, who thinks you're after his body – well, you'd understand how I'm feeling right now…"

Carson's voice cut in over the radio.

"Rodney? Shut up. Radek's trying to work, and may I remind you, that it's yours and the colonel's fault this happened in the first place. If you two daft buggers hadn't been testing Ancient Doodad's at ridiculous hours of the morning, and had actually bothered to inform us what you were doing, then we would have discovered this little fiasco sooner." Carson's breathing could be heard over the air as he recovered from his outburst.

Rodney snorted. "Blame Mr. Insomniac over there. It was his idea. You know, next time he wants to play 'Test the Ancient Device and blow the power in the Eastern side of the city, causing a lockdown and radio blackout' - remind me to stay in bed," he grumbled.

"We're through the next doors. Only two more corridors to go, Rodney." Zelenka's voice chirped.

Rodney anxiously peered down at his friend, and did a double take as his eyes suddenly caught sight of purple dots on Sheppard's nearest forearm.

"Carson! Sheppard's got purple blotches on his arm. I swear they weren't there a minute ago. He's got septicaemia hasn't he?"

Carson could be heard exhaling. "Okay, let's calm down a minute. Do the rashes disappear when you touch them?"

McKay pressed the blotches and quickly removed his hand.

"I can't tell. I need a glass, don't I? I don't have one!" Scrambling to his feet, Rodney looked around the lab and grunted in approval as his eyes caught sight of a tray of empty test tubes on a workbench. Picking up one of the glass tubes, he ran over to John, and rolled it over Sheppard's arm carefully. "No, they're not blanching."

"Damn. There's nothing you can do at the moment. Is the colonel conscious?" Beckett asked, anxiety evident in his voice.

Rodney gently shook Sheppard's shoulders.

"No, and he's burning up . Just hurry – please!" McKay uncharacteristically begged Carson before turning his attention back to Sheppard. "You just had to do it again, didn't you? Why couldn't you just have the 'flu like any normal person? You know sometimes I swear you do this just to annoy me." McKay groaned, and picked up the discarded handkerchief. Wetting it liberally, he began to sponge Sheppard down again, as he waited anxiously for the cavalry to arrive.

Tbc.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

_I'm sorry this has taken so long to be posted. It was written ages ago, but wouldn't play nicely and let me upload. Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews. To answer a couple of questions. Meningitis is the inflamation of the lining of the brain, in this case due to bacterial infection. Septacaemia, or put simply, blood poisoning due to bacterial infection here, often occurs with this illness, and is extremely serious, often resulting in death. Thanks, as always, goes to my wonderful beta, Kodiak Bear Country._

John was confused. He knew he was burning up; his body felt scorched, and spent. His head felt like it was going to explode in the near future, and he was certain something inside his skull was trying to push its way out. He distantly thought he'd never had a headache like this before in his life, as jackhammers competed for supremacy. Everything hurt, his arms, legs, chest, even breathing was painful and surprisingly difficult. He was vaguely aware of a voice talking to him, and of something wet and cool lapping at his body. A dog? Why was there a dog in Atlantis? Sheppard tried to move, but his body wouldn't co-operate. Groaning, he managed to grind out a few words.

"How'd a dog…get here?…like…dogs."

McKay looked down at Sheppard and grimaced. The pilot had begun to thrash and moan in his delirium. John was burning hot to the touch, flushed, yet an alarming pallid complexion lay underneath the superficial pink hue to his skin. His body was drenched in sweat, and Rodney knew Sheppard had to be dehydrated. More purple rashes had begun to appear alongside the blotches in the crook of the sick man's arm. Rodney strained to listen to John's ramblings, and raised his eyes heavenward as he heard the fevered man ask why there was a dog there.

"I don't believe this! There's no dog here, Sheppard, you're hallucinating," he said slowly and deliberately.

Sheppard continued to groan and move sluggishly.

"Is…it's licking…me."

McKay continued to sponge down his friend and stopped as he realised Sheppard's mistake. An annoyed expression came over his face.

"You idiot! That's me tenderly mopping your brow, amongst other body parts. Carson, where the hell are you?" he cried out uselessly into thin air.

Ten minutes later and McKay sighed in relief as the large double doors were prised open. Carson immediately ran in and knelt over his patient.

Examining the prone man, Carson tutted and signalled to two of his staff.

"Melissa, let's start an IV. Shelly have you got the IV antibiotics ready?" Both nurses nodded their heads. "I can't afford to wait till we get to the infirmary. I'm going to give them to him now."

As Melissa guided the needle into the crook of Sheppard's elbow, Carson injected a large syringe into Sheppard's other one. The prone man groaned almost inaudibly.

Carson then proceeded to stick a thermometer in John's ear. After the device beeped he withdrew it and fretted more. 40.5 degrees.

"Colonel. Can you hear me Lad?" No response. "Colonel? I need you to wake up for me." A soft moan. "That's it Son, open your eyes for me," Carson coaxed. Taking his penlight, Carson lifted Sheppard's right eyelid and shone the light in his eye, withdrawing it as the colonel flinched and groaned.

"All right lad. Just relax now. We'll get you on the gurney and take you to that nice infirmary bed, where the nurses will fuss over you," he soothed.

Beckett and his nurses carefully lifted Sheppard onto the litter, covering him with a thin sheet, and then swiftly strapped John in with belts fastened across his chest and legs. Beckett deftly placed an oxygen mask over the ailing man's face and signalled his nurses to start their journey with the colonel to the infirmary.

Rodney walked alongside the procession, biting his lower lip nervously.

"Carson?" he tentatively asked.

"I don't know, Rodney," he replied, understanding what the physicist was trying to ask. "The good news is he's got that large dose of antibiotics in him and some fever reducing medication too. We'll do a lumbar puncture as soon as we get him stable and that'll tell us what we need to know."

Once they'd reached the infirmary, the medical team sprang into action, moving Sheppard to a bed, inserting another IV and catheter, as well as attaching John to various monitors.

A tall fair-haired doctor shook his head apprehensively.

"Dr. Beckett? I don't like the look of these readings, his O2 sats are falling, and his BP is dropping. Shall I start him on some gelofusine?"

Beckett nodded briskly.

"Aye, David. Right, let's administer sux and get him intubated," he ordered, smiling grimly at Melissa who administered the muscle relaxant, before passing the intubation kit to Carson.

Once safely intubated and on the vent, Carson ordered more drugs to be administered, and for bloods to be taken, and set about examining his patient.

Rodney stood to the side of Sheppard's bed in shock, being careful to keep out of the medical team's way.

"All right. Let's roll him and prep for the lumbar puncture. The medical team deftly rolled John into a curled up foetal position on his side, and as Carson swabbed his patient's lower back, McKay winced. "Good. Melissa, you hold the colonel's legs, Shelly hold his shoulders. Okay, here I go…"

Beckett quickly inserted the long needle with a tube inside, and proceeded to position the tube in the correct place. Momentarily, a cloudy, blood-streaked fluid dripped into a small test tube. Passing it to one of his staff, Beckett ordered the sample to be taken to the lab immediately.

After cleaning the colonel up and dressing the puncture mark, Carson and his nurses carefully rolled Sheppard back over. Beckett proceeded to check his patient thoroughly, making notes and recording readings from the monitors in Sheppard's medical file.

After silently watching Carson for ten minutes, Rodney couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Well?" came an impatient enquiry.

"Rodney, I won't know anything for certain until I get the labs back," Carson admonished the anxious physicist.

McKay scowled. "You must have an idea, a gut feeling?"

Carson studied Sheppard's monitors and checked his IV lines.

"Aye. His spinal fluid wasn't clear, so it's a good bet this is bacterial meningitis." Carson looked McKay in the eye. "Before you have a complete freak out, no, that's not good, and yes, he would have benefited from treatment earlier. No, I don't know what his chances are, and I can't and won't give you a percentage figure. He's very sick, and I've got a battle on my hands." Carson exhaled and shook his head. "What I don't understand, is how a healthy man like the colonel could suddenly develop an illness like this."

Rodney bit his lower lip.

"He seemed a little off yesterday, though he didn't say he felt sick or anything." McKay suddenly considered Sheppard's rapid decline and a worried expression crossed his tense features. "Do you think this could have something to do with the Ancient Device he activated? I mean he seemed a little off his game, but not really sick until the device blew out the power. He got sick and passed out within twenty minutes of him being enveloped in the oddly pretty, green light."

Carson frowned. "I hadn't even thought of that. Did the light touch you?" he asked in concern.

"No, no. I was standing too far away. Could the device have somehow made him sick?" McKay started to pace up and down, wringing his hands in anxiety.

Before Beckett could answer, Shelly interrupted the two men.

"Doctor Beckett? I thought you'd want to see these blood test results immediately. I also got a call from Dr. Henderson, the colonel's spinal fluid has tested positive for bacterial infection, though the bacterial strain is one he says he's never come across before. He said to tell you the bacteria have died, and is decomposing."

Carson bit his lower lip as he absorbed his nurse's words, while simultaneously scrutinising the piece of paper with the lab results.

"Good God!" He visibly paled and shook his head in disbelief.

McKay gulped.

"What?"

"This can't be right! I ran a full blood work up on the colonel two days ago, and everything was completely normal," Carson exclaimed in shock.

"What?" Rodney repeated a little more forcefully.

"Colonel Sheppard's immune system has totally shut down. His white blood count is one point four. How the hell could this have happened?" Beckett wrinkled his forehead in thought. "Rodney? Did you pick up any signs of radiation or anything unusual when the device was operated?"

McKay's face darkened. "Er, I didn't check. All the equipment was out, and then Sheppard got sick."

Carson exhaled. "Right. I need to run some more tests. You need to be examined too. Dr. Lambert will give you the once over."

Carson pointed toa nearbybed, and pushed McKay in the right direction.

McKay sat nervously, and waited for Carson's second in command to examine him. Suddenly realising something, McKay tapped his radio.

"Kavanagh? Is the power up yet?"

The pony-tailed scientist's voice filled McKay's earpiece.

"I'm nearly there. Whatever you and Colonel Sheppard did fried a lot of circuitry."

McKay's brow furrowed in thought.

"Kavanagh, when you've got the scanners working, can you scan for any sign of radiation or anything unusual that would cause a lockdown? I have a horrible feeling Colonel Sheppard and I have just irradiated ourselves."

"Will do. I shouldn't be long now. Why am I not surprised you two clowns would do something like this?" Kavanagh muttered as his com went dead.

Rodney scowled in annoyance at the scientist's words, and frowned, as he suddenly felt dizzy. Lying down on the bed, he turned to see Dr. Lambert approaching.

"Er, I don't feel so good," he complained as a wave of nausea hit him.

The tall fair-haired doctor walked briskly over to McKay.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

McKay nodded. "Feel dizzy – had to lie down. I've got a headache too. God, I've probably got radiation sickness!"

Dr. Lambert grinned. "Let's take a look at you before we jump to conclusions," he stated.

-oOo-

Elizabeth rushed into the infirmary in a panic.

"Carson?" she called, as she approached the anxious doctor. "How are they?"

Beckett led Elizabeth to a chair and pulling up one for himself, gestured for the woman to sit down.

"Rodney is a little under the weather. Our tests have shown he has a slightly diminished immune system and is suffering from a simple cold-like virus." Carson grinned wickedly. "Naturally, according to him, he's dying and won't be with us much longer. I've given him analgesics and put him on an IV to be on the safe side, but otherwise he's showing no signs of radiation sickness – in fact they're both clean in that respect."

Weir nodded in understanding. "That's good. And John?" she asked nervously, knowing her second in command always had to complicate matters.

Beckett grimaced. "He's not so good, I'm afraid. His immune system has been totally wiped out, a bit like someone may experience when they're on chemotherapy. It seems he had contracted a previously unidentified bacterial infection, which quickly overwhelmed the colonel's body, resulting in the meningitis." He stopped to run his hand through his hair. "Unfortunately, his immune system has to all intents and purposes, been switched off, meaning he's incredibly vulnerable to further infection. Fortunately for the colonel, the bacteria have been destroyed, but I've no idea how that's happened. It seems too much of a coincidence that twenty minutes before his collapse he was enveloped in green light from an Ancient Artefact he activated."

Weir nodded her head again, and bit her bottom lip. "If the bacteria's been destroyed why is John so sick?"

Carson frowned. "The toxins from the decomposing bacteria are poisoning him, and there's not much I can do. If you combine that with his compromised immune system…" Beckett paused and tiredly rubbed the back of his neck. "As you know, Dr. Zelenka has returned to the planet with a team to see if they can find anything out about the artefact, hopefully they'll be able to tell us something useful. I've got the colonel on the strongest antibiotics possible, but seeing how the bacteria has been destroyed, it's probably not necessary. I'd rather not take any chances." Carson stood, and pushed the chair against the wall of the infirmary. "I'm giving him immune bolstering treatments, and am supporting him with medication to try and combat the toxicity he's suffering. I may have to put him on dialysis, as his kidneys are starting to fail. He's been isolated and I'm having him barrier nursed. Unfortunately, I'm very limited in what I can do here. I could really use Rodney's help with researching the device, but he's not feeling very well right now."

Weir stood, and grimaced.

"Do your best. Hopefully Rodney will recover soon. Keep me informed, Carson."

Beckett smiled. "Aye, I will."

-oOo-

Rodney felt terrible. His head pounded, his nose was blocked, and he felt dizzy, weak and wiped out. Spying Carson approaching, he groaned, and frowned when the doctor hovered a considerable distance away from him.

"Carson? I'm dying here. Why haven't you broken out the good drugs? Sheppard always gets them…"

Beckett exhaled. "Rodney, I know you feel like crap, but you've only got a nasty cold. I can't come near you, as I don't want to pass your virus on to Colonel Sheppard. I've brought you a decongestant, which Shelly will give you, and hopefully that will make you feel a little better. I really need your help."

McKay looked at Carson's serious face.

"Sheppard?" he croaked miserably.

"Aye."

McKay listened quietly to Carson's findings and winced as he learned of Sheppard's situation.

"Give me something stronger and get me on my feet. I'll go to the lab and work with Radek when he gets back." He sniffed, as he managed to sit himself up.

Carson shook his head.

"I don't think that's wise, Rodney. I just wondered if you can tell us anything about the device that may help?"

McKay flopped back down.

"Er, there were no warnings on it. Sheppard activated it easily, it hummed, spewed forth a pretty green beam, which enveloped the colonel. The power went out, and then the lockdown occurred. Why would the city go into lockdown?" Rodney mused.

Carson furrowed his brow in thought.

"May be it detected the bacteria in the colonel?"

"Yes, but presumably Sheppard had been infected with the bacteria for at least a day?" McKay's face showed his confusion. "This doesn't make sense - the city would have gone into lockdown as soon as it detected something dangerous." McKay sneezed and blew his nose on a tissue he'd been holding tightly in his hand. "Hang on a minute. I'm missing something here. Sheppard was a little off yesterday, and not himself today, right?" Rodney frowned. "That doesn't mean he had the bacterial infection then. He might have been feeling a bit pre-menstrual or something." McKay sniggered at his own joke.

Beckett huffed in annoyance at the physicist's attempt at humour.

"I'd hardly call the colonel hormonal, Rodney. You on the other hand often exhibit monthly mood swings. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say daily ones…"

McKay gave Beckett a withering look.

"Oh, yes. Insult the dying man!" Rodney yanked his sheet up under his chin, and continued. "What if the device gave him the infection?"

Carson's face showed confusion.

"What would be the point in that, and what about his immune system?"

Rodney grimaced.

"Well, we did find the device in an Ancient research lab on another world. They could have been tampering with new forms of bacteria, or even creating them?" McKay suddenly sat up straight. "What if this was some sort of biological weapon?"

"I don't believe the Ancient's would create something like that, Rodney. It doesn't seem to fit in with what we know about them," Carson resolutely stated.

McKay snorted.

"Really? I'm not so sure about that. They certainly had a hand in creating the Wraith didn't they? They also seem to not want to dirty their hands with any of us now, do they? They just float around enjoying the Universe, ignoring all of the suffering us mere mortals endure…"

"I get the point," Beckett interrupted Rodney's little rant.

McKay blinked in surprise. "Oh, yes, well – good," he stuttered. "Well, as I was saying, this could be a weapon. Maybe it's linked to the Wraith? Perhaps the device is a failed experiment?" he mused.

Zelenka rushing up to them interrupted both men.

"I've found out what the device is for, and more importantly, I have a cure for the side effects the colonel is suffering!" the small, bespectacled Czech exclaimed.

Zelenka smiled broadly and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his hand.

McKay huffed impatiently.

"Well? Don't keep us in suspense. Some of us are dying here." Thinking better of what he'd said, Rodney blushed. "Well, one of us actually could be…"

"The device was originally a prototype weapon, and…"

McKay smugly interrupted Zelenka. "I knew it! Ancient's too nice to make weapons my…"

"Rodney! Let's listen to what Radek has to say," Carson admonished a very gloating- faced McKay.

Zelenka grinned at Carson. "Thank you. As I was saying…It was a prototype weapon, but was abandoned, as it had disastrous side effects. The idea was to infect the Wraith with a deadly strain of bacteria. It would only kill the Wraith, and all other life forms would be unaffected by it. However, the strain mutated quickly and became dangerous to all life, even the Ancient's." Zelenka grimaced. "A whole team of Ancient scientists died before a cure was found. Though the bacteria died very quickly once infection had taken hold, it still killed the victim as it released deadly toxins and annihilated the immune system."

McKay snorted.

"Yes, well, I'd managed to work most of that out all by myself. So, why wasn't I infected by the bacteria, or anybody else, for that matter?"

Zelenka looked at McKay.

"I have hypothesised that the artefact the colonel activated malfunctioned, and instead of dispersing the bacteria by creating a widespread beam, it simply misfired sending out a huge energy pulse, but the beam with the contagion just enveloped the colonel alone. That is lucky for us, but unfortunate for him. If this weapon had been deployed as it was designed to – well, we would probably all be dead or dying by now," Zelenka said gravely.

"So why has my immune system been affected? If the bacteria didn't infect me, there's no reason for it to be compromised…" Rodney mused.

Carson chewed his lip in thought.

"It's possible you were a wee bit under the weather and have contracted a cold coincidentally. You could be a red herring here, so to speak. Your immune system was only slightly under par, after all."

McKay nodded, and then grimaced.

"That would make sense. Though I don't think it's fair to say I'm a little bit under par, Carson. I'm really sick…"

Carson exhaled and frowned in concentration, ignoring the complaining physicist. "You said there is a treatment we can administer to Colonel Sheppard?"

Zelenka looked startled. "Yes. I am sorry, I should have explained this to you immediately." He rummaged in his rucksack. "Here are written instructions I have made from translating Ancient texts I found. It tells you what you must do. Only a carrier of Ancient gene can use it." Radek held out a crumpled piece of paper and a long, cylindrical, metal object, which had buttons along one side, and narrowed at one end. "This is device which will hopefully cure the colonel, though it may take days for him to recover, and he will be very sick for a while."

Beckett read the piece of paper and studied the device, which he surmised was a piece of medical equipment.

"Do you know how it works?"

Zelenka smiled apologetically.

"I have no idea. After Colonel Sheppard is cured, I will research it for you, but I thought it best to bring it to you immediately."

Carson nodded.

"You did the right thing. I'll take this to the colonel immediately."

Beckett walked to Sheppard's bed and frowned in concentration as he remembered the instructions. He pressed a series of buttons and pressed the device against Sheppard's neck. John tensed momentarily, as the device emitted a low whirring sound. Carson withdrew the device and the colonel instantly relaxed.

"I think that's it. Now, we wait," he stated solemnly.

Tbc.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

_The concluding chapter has arrived. I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my beta, Kodiak for her fantastic skills!_

John was confused and frightened. He felt as if he were burning up. His head pounded, and he couldn't breathe – he was choking. Something was stuck in his throat, and he instantly knew that he was suffocating. Instinct took over, and he clumsily lifted his arm to remove whatever was blocking his airway. He felt his hand being pushed away, and tried unsuccessfully to fight the weight holding it down. Thrashing around in panic, John was vaguely aware of distant voices - Carson and Elizabeth? He couldn't make out what they were saying, but why weren't they helping him? They were obviously nearby, and surely knew what was happening to him. John tried to shout, to tell them that he needed them, but his voice wouldn't co-operate, and he ended up gagging more violently than before. Just as he thought the end was in sight, he felt a cooling numbness wash through his veins. Suddenly nothing mattered anymore, and he happily drifted into the warm darkness he saw ahead.

-oOo-

"That's a good sign, isn't it?" Elizabeth looked nervously at Carson.

The doctor smiled encouragingly back at Atlantis' leader.

"Aye. He's making a good respiratory effort. It's too early for him to come off the vent, though, so I've sedated him again. His sats aren't good enough and I don't want to extubate him just to have to put him back on again. But – this is an encouraging sign."

Elizabeth smiled for the first time that day.

"How's Rodney? I wanted to see him, but the nurse explained I couldn't expose myself to the virus he's fighting and then come visit John."

Carson chuckled.

"Oh, he's still dying, and suffering the worst head cold ever endured by mankind – and don't we all know about it." Carson patted Elizabeth on the arm. "He's fine, love. I think he's a wee bit jealous that the colonel's hogging the limelight again – and getting the good drugs."

Weir sighed. "John does seem to do that. Though he hates all the fussing we throw at him."

Carson smiled warmly. "Aye, that he does. Well, you've seen him for yourself and can see he's weathering the storm." Carson gestured with his arm for Elizabeth to leave the isolation room. Removing protective clothing and masks, the two exited, and Beckett smiled as he saw Weir turn round to look at the unconscious colonel one more time.

"I think he'll be fine, really," he assured the worried woman.

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "I know. I just can't believe how close we came to losing him – again. He just attracts so much trouble."

"I know. He's a survivor, Elizabeth. Don't underestimate him." Carson studied Weir carefully. "I suggest you get some rest, you look exhausted. I don't want you coming down with something as well. I really don't think I could cope with any more patients right now."

Weir nodded. "Yes, Sir. You'll let me know…"

Carson interrupted Elizabeth. "Aye. Now off you go – unless you fancy a little sedation?"

"I'm already gone."

-oOo-

Twenty-four hours later and John was off the vent, though his fever was still raging. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and the soggy white infirmary sheet stuck to his naked lower body. A fan blew cool air over his scorched, bare torso, and arms, but he felt little relief. He'd woken up to a sore throat, pounding head and an overwhelming weakness. He discovered he couldn't even move his limp hand to scratch his nose, which had been irritated by the dreaded nasal cannula. Groaning inwardly, as he didn't have enough strength to even use his voice, he let his eyes focus on his surroundings. He took in the small, white, bare room. Around his bed were the usual monitors, and he grimaced as he saw three IV lines dotted around his body. He also felt the intrusion of the catheter. He wondered if things could possibly be any worse.

The noise of the door opening caused John to slowly, yet excruciatingly, turn his head. He panted as his head throbbed mercilessly, and his vision momentarily greyed out. Shutting his eyes to quell the sudden rise of nausea, he sighed as his pain suddenly diminished to a tolerable level.

"That should make you feel a little better, Colonel." Beckett's voice filtered into John's foggy brain. "Don't try and talk, just listen. You've been very sick, but are over the worst now. I know it probably doesn't feel like that, but you'll have to take my word for it." Carson checked John's IV lines. "I've given you something for the pain, and if you like, you can have an ice chip. Blink if you'd like one."

It took every ounce of concentration for John to comply with the simple command. He dutifully blinked, and inwardly sighed as the frozen water was placed between his dry lips. He parted them eagerly, being able to at least do that without too much effort. As the water trickled down his raw throat, John closed his eyes in bliss. He opened them slowly, and hoped his face conveyed his gratitude.

"You're most welcome. I know you'll be fretting about Rodney. Don't worry, he's fine. He's got a head cold, but can't see you, as I don't want you to contract his virus. Your immune system's not very happy at the moment, so you're in isolation until it recovers. You're doing incredibly well, and improving every hour."

John thought Carson's statement had to be somewhat inaccurate, as he didn't feel like he was doing so well. He dreaded to think what he must have been like previously if he was improving rapidly.

"Hot," he managed to croak out.

"I know," Carson soothed as he took a washcloth from a basin of water next to John's bed, and proceeded to gently sponge down the burning colonel. "I've given you some fever reducing medicine too, but nothing seems to be helping." Carson smiled apologetically. "If it's any consolation, you're a lot cooler than you were yesterday."

Sheppard inwardly thought it would be impossible to be any hotter than he felt at that moment, but nodded weakly in understanding.

"I'll get Melissa to carry on sponging you down. Try and get some sleep."

John closed his eyes, and let the fuzzy numbness over-take him.

When John next opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Teyla's head resting to the side of him on the edge of his bed. He smiled as he realised her hand was loosely holding his. He relished her cool touch, but had to admit he actually felt a little cooler than the last time he woke up.

"Hey," he whispered, swallowing to lubricate his angry, raw throat.

Teyla jerked awake, and composing herself, smiled warmly at John.

"How are you feeling? Would you like a sip of water?" she asked, as she reached for a glass with a straw in it, from the nightstand.

"Please," John answered longingly, as Teyla raised the head of his bed.

As he drank from the straw, John's throat hummed with delight as the liquid slipped easily down.

"That is enough. Carson said you may only have small sips," she warned the colonel.

Sheppard nodded carefully.

"I know. Thanks."

John looked down at himself and was relieved to see he was dressed in a loose hospital gown. Not exactly his choice of dress, but the loose garment was better than being naked in front of Teyla.

Teyla scrutinised John's features.

"I believe your face has more colour in it than it did yesterday. Are you feeling better?"

John considered Teyla's question before answering. Taking stock of his aches and pains, fever and general malaise, he grinned. "Much better, thanks. How's Rodney?"

The Athosian winced, then smiled.

"He was released from the infirmary last night under protest. He maintains he should not have been allowed to return to his quarters, as he still needed 'the good drugs'," Teyla laughed. "Carson believes him to be jealous of you."

John frowned in confusion.

"Why would he be jealous of me?"

Teyla chuckled softly.

"Rodney believes you are – favoured, here in the infirmary."

Sheppard shook his head carefully, wincing when his head warned him not to repeat that manoeuvre anytime soon. "I realise I'm not at my best right now – but - you've lost me," he answered in a baffled voice.

"I am sorry to have confused you, John. Rodney believes Carson and the nurses like you better than him. He has convinced himself they give you better care – and more potent medicines." Teyla's rich, mellow laugh filled the small room.

John snorted. "Only Rodney. I'd swap places with him any day. Not that I could even sit up by myself at the moment."

Teyla's face suddenly became serious.

"We nearly lost you, again. You will be fine – in time, but you are weak and must rest." Teyla's face brightened. "Carson asked me to tell you that you can come out of isolation tomorrow, if you continue to improve. He also said your 'immune system' is 'on the mend'." Teyla hesitated as she repeated the unfamiliar phrases.

John smiled sarcastically.

"Great. Did he say how long I'm going to be incarcerated this time?"

Teyla raised her eyebrows. "You must be feeling better if you want to 'escape from Dodge' already."

John laughed softly.

"Yeah, I am."

John yawned as he suddenly felt an overwhelming tiredness envelop him.

Teyla brushed away a small lock of wayward hair that was stuck to Sheppard's damp forehead.

"You should rest. I will watch you while you sleep," she promised.

John snuggled down sleepily into his bed.

"'Kay. Thanks, Teyla." He yawned a second time, and contentedly closed his eyes.

-oOo-

Twenty-four hours later, and John was unhappily lying in his infirmary bed in the main ward. Carson had explained that his immune system was now only a fraction below normal, and that he was progressing well, and hoped to start him on some light food later that day. John was delighted to lose the catheter, and two of his IV's, but not so pleased at how long it took him to get to the bathroom, supported by nurses or Beckett. John vowed to drink less, so he wouldn't need to pee so often. The last trip to the bathroom had taken twenty minutes, and he'd returned to bed with legs like rubber, and a pounding head.

"Colonel? How are we today?"

Rodney's voice interrupted John's morose musings.

"Like a washed out dish rag. You sound better," John remarked.

McKay nodded.

"Yes, I've recovered remarkably well. Carson gave me the okay to visit you, in case you're worried I'm going to infect you."

John snorted.

"I'm not the one usually whining about other people's germs, Rodney."

Rodney scowled.

"Are you insinuating I'm a hypochondriac?" he asked in an affronted voice.

John scoffed. "I'm not _insinuating_ anything. It's not exactly a secret, after all…"

"Ha, ha! I'm glad the high fever and abundance of bacteria didn't scramble your sense of humour – though it may have been a blessing for us all if they had." McKay's attention was drawn to Zelenka who was carrying a tray. "Ah. Here's our jello. Blue for you and red for me." Rodney reached out and smiled as he took the tray from the Radek, who greeted the colonel and promptly left. Passing the dish of blue jello and a spoon to Sheppard, he started to demolish his own dessert.

"Eat up. Carson said you could have it, and I know how much you love jello," Rodney mumbled through a mouth full of red gloop.

John swallowed.

"Er, I don't think I could stomach it at the moment, thanks."

McKay put his spoon in his dish.

"If you don't eat it, he'll stick another IV line back in, or worse, he'll make you drink protein shakes like last time," he warned.

John's forehead creased in confusion.

"Carson did not make me drink protein shakes. I was a good boy and ate everything he gave me," John pouted.

Rodney considered John's words, and exhaled.

"Well, he threatened you with shakes. Eat up," he cajoled.

Sheppard grimaced as he studied the brightly coloured gelatine.

"Okay. But don't blame me if it comes back up," he warned.

McKay snorted.

"Don't be ridiculous, not even you could throw precious jello back up, and you have no idea who I had to bribe to get you the blue kind. So stop whining and swallow."

Rodney picked his spoon back up, and started to eat his own jello, making sighing noises to encourage John to follow suit.

By his sixth spoonful, John was starting to regret his attempt to ingest Rodney's magnanimous gift. He dropped the spoon suddenly as a wave of nausea hit him.

Clasping his hand over his mouth he frantically tried to attract Rodney's attention, while precariously holding on to the glass dessert dish. The physicist was too busy gulping down his own dessert while simultaneously complaining about Carson's stinginess with narcotics during his recent infirmary stay.

Realising that John had stopped eating, Rodney put his own jello down on a nearby table and leaned towards Sheppard, just in time for John to throw up everywhere. The blue dessert splattered down the front of McKay's uniform, and all over the bed, just as Carson approached.

The doctor shook his head, and retrieved an emesis basin, which he promptly thrust under Sheppard's chin.

Looking at Rodney, Carson pursed his lips.

"I thought I told you the colonel was to have no jello until this afternoon, and even then just a spoonful to start with," Beckett chastised.

Ignoring Carson, McKay cast daggers at the heaving Sheppard.

"You just had to go and do it again, didn't you?" he asked in an irate voice. "This makes it three times you've thrown up on me." Rodney looked at his jacket and shirt in disgust. "I thought we agreed no more puking? Did I miss something when you promised that? Were you crossing your fingers behind your back? I'll never get this wretched stuff off my jacket. This was my second favourite one, too. Of course, you already ruined my favourite one during the appendix fiasco. Did I tell you I hate you?"

Sheppard flopped down in his bed as Carson wiped his mouth.

"We'd better get you cleaned up colonel. Poor Lad." Turning his head to reproachfully meet Rodney's gaze, Carson smiled. "Well, at least jello doesn't smell as bad as regurgitated toast or oatmeal. You should at least be thankful for that."

"Oh, I feel so much better now, Carson. Thank you for that," he replied sarcastically.

Turning to Sheppard, Rodney scowled again.

"You owe me big time, Sheppard. Once is a mistake, twice is careless, but three times is downright irresponsible. To think I diligently and lovingly sponged you down, while you were half-naked, against my better judgement…"

"Rodney? I'm sorry, okay?" John ground out. "I tried to tell you I didn't feel up to eating anything, and I tried to tell you I was going to puke, but as usual you weren't paying attention." John smiled wickedly. "As for sponging me down. Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Carson told me earlier how much you appreciated my muscular, toned body. I have to admit I'm flattered, and had no idea you felt that way…"

Rodney took one look at Sheppard's face, and stood, spun round and high-tailed it out of the infirmary.

Carson and John both howled with laughter.

"That was extremely uncharitable, Colonel," he scolded.

John held his stomach as his aching muscles complained.

"Yeah, I know. I'll apologise later. I just couldn't resist. Though strangely enough, I did really imagine he was enjoying my little show. It's amazing what a fever will do to you…" he mused.

Carson chuckled.

"Aye, it is. You must stop doing this, Colonel. You're sending me prematurely grey, you know."

John winced.

"Yeah, sorry, Doc. I won't do it again, I promise."

Carson snorted.

"I've heard that before Colonel. I'll go and find Rodney, and send him back to you. He'll be demanding valium next…"

John smiled as Melissa approached with a clean scrub shirt, and new bedding, wheeling a trolley with water, soap and towels on it.

"I hear you went and did it again, Colonel?" she teased.

John groaned.

"Story of my life, I'm afraid."

The end.


End file.
